Title: Seeking Oblivion (sequel to Left With Tears)
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: PG-16
Disclaimer: Joss owns all.
Summary: Everyone tries to cope.
Spoilers: Parts of season 4.
Archive: Charity's site, Willow's Men, Fever of Fate,
and all the rest of my usual haunts.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Notes: I was amazed by the response to Left With
Tears. Many thanks to all of you who asked for a
sequel. There was no way I could refuse. You guys are
the best.:-)

Giles sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair as
he looked around at the long faces that had gathered
in his living room. Two weeks had passed since Willow
had left, and no one had heard a word from her.

Buffy had tried to contact her parents who were
currently overseas and apparently unreachable. Since
then, she had spent most of her time alternately
burying her sorrow in pointless social activities and
angrily biting off the head of anyone who looked
cross-eyed at her. The former watcher understood that
her emotional outbursts were simply the result of
grief-stricken guilt. Even so, more and more
frequently he found himself thinking that she could do
with a good hard slap.

Xander, on the other hand, had given himself over to
long stretches of silence peppered with meandering
litanies of the places to which Willow could have
run--none of which had proved to have been worth the
effort of looking into. Still, in his own sincere, if
inept, way, he was trying to do something useful to
rectify the sad situation.

Spike's reaction had surprised Giles the most. He had
been the one to track down Kerri and had even managed
to question the young woman with something akin to
patient rationality. Unfortunately, Willow's ride out
of town hadn't been able to provide him with much
information. Kerri had deposited the redhead at a
hotel in her hometown and had not seen her since. The
blonde vampire had hovered over Giles' shoulder as he
telephoned the hotel manager only to be told no one
with Willow's name or description had ever checked
into a room there.

"It's no good," Buffy's voice broke the thirty minute
silence and drew their attention to her. "We aren't
going to find her."

"Yeah, we all know how hard you've looked," Spike
commented with a sneer.

"Shut up," she snapped. "Who the hell are you to
criticize me? You have no idea what I--"

"Buffy," Giles interrupted, unwilling to listen to yet
another endless argument.

"Giles, you know how badly I want to find her!" she
insisted. "No one's more upset about this than I am!"

The man looked at the vampire and thought to himself
that quite possibly someone else was in a good deal
more pain than the slayer was able to admit to
herself.

"I told you when you formulated your plan to rescue
Willow from herself that you were asking for trouble,"
Giles reminded her. "She needed time, not a
self-serving scheme to try to coerce her out of her
pain."

"It wasn't self-serving! I wanted to help her!"

Giles' patience was frayed beyond repair, and he
snapped, "You wanted an easy fix, a fast way to mend
her aching heart so you wouldn't have to listen to how
much she was hurting. None of us were understanding
enough, and most of us should have known better."

"That's unfair, and it isn't true," she argued, but
the words sounded pathetically unconvincing even to
herself.

"No one wanted to hurt her," Xander said to Giles. "We
just wanted her to be happy again."

"I know that," he nodded, his temper receding. "But as
much as you'd like not to, you have to admit that what
you did must have seemed to Willow as big a betrayal
as what Oz did by leaving."

Buffy's gaze dropped guiltily away, and Spike pushed
himself up out of his chair, walked wordlessly to the
front door, and let himself out. Giles watched him
leave and felt an odd pang of sympathy for the
vampire.

"I didn't believe him when he said he loves Willow,"
Xander spoke softly. "But I'm changing my mind. Gods,
could we have possibly made a bigger mess out of
this?"

"All right," Buffy sighed. "It was a stupid idea. I'm
a complete ass. Does that make you feel better?"

"When the hell are you going to get it?" Xander
shouted angrily and stood up. "This isn't about
you--or any of the rest of us! We can sit around
pointing fingers at each other and feeling sorry for
ourselves, but Willow is still gone. How the hell are
we going to find her?"

"She's been gone for two weeks," Giles said. "If she
doesn't want to be found, she probably won't be."

"You think we should give up?" Xander asked.

"I think we should be realistic," he answered.

"Maybe after she's had time to think, and she realizes
we were only thinking of her best interests, she'll
see it was wrong to run off like that, and she'll come
back," Buffy suggested.

Giles looked over at her in utter disbelief and
replied, "I wouldn't count on it."
***
"I hate this town," Willow thought to herself as she
flopped down on the ragged bedspread in the cheap
hotel room.

She kicked off her shoes and rubbed her aching feet.
She had spent the past six hours standing on a cement
floor, soaked to her elbows in hot, soapy water. The
smell of seafood clung to her clothes and her hair,
and she quickly stripped out of her jeans and blouse
and headed for the shower. Lukewarm water was the best
the hotel seemed to be able to provide, and she
shivered for a moment as the weak spray hit her body.

Two days after she had left, she had gone to a branch
office of her bank back in Sunnydale and had withdrawn
all of the money from her savings account. It was a
respectable amount of money, but she had decided to be
frugal and pick up whatever jobs she could find as she
flitted aimlessly from one small nondescript town to
another.

She had briefly entertained the idea of going to L.A.,
but had decided against it. She knew the possibility
was slim that Angel would find her. As far as she
knew, he didn't keep in touch with anyone back in
Sunnydale, and it was highly unlikely that he even
knew she had left. Still, it was a risk she wasn't
willing to take.

Willow stepped out of the shower and toweled herself
off before pulling on a pair of sweats and a fresh
t-shirt. She laid down on the bed and glanced over at
the useless TV, wondering if any of the sets in this
flea-bag actually worked.

She sighed heavily and rolled onto her side as a tear
trickled from her eye and dropped onto the pillow. She
hated her life. She hated where she had come from and
where she was now. She hated the boring pattern her
life had taken on over the last six weeks. A bus
ticket into the next little town. Work long enough to
save enough money to prevent her from dipping into her
savings. Buy another bus ticket. Move on.

Mostly, she hated feeling sorry for herself. Pain had
become such a central part of her day-to-day life, she
could barely remember what it was like to be happy.
She had made up her mind to let that emotional side of
her die. But somewhere, deep inside, the old Willow
who had been filled with dreams and carefree hopes,
still struggled to remain. However, with each passing
day, she felt that person slipping away.

A hard shell of a woman, one who no longer
cared--about anything, really--stared back at her when
she looked in the mirror. At first, it had scared her.
She didn't recognize the person she was becoming, but
that new, harder voice, the one that grew stronger
with each ticking moment, assured her that soon she
would no longer care about that, either. To not care
meant to not feel. And that's what she wanted.

She scrubbed at her wet cheek with the back of her
hand and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the
blissful oblivion of sleep to overtake her weary mind.
*******
Part 2:

*******
Part 3:

Spike braced himself mentally as the pub door swung
open, and a flash of red hair was illuminated by the
dim light hanging just above the doorway. Doyle waited
until she had cleared the entrance before nodding
politely and moving around her to block her escape
back into the building.

Willow's gaze moved up, and her eyes widened with
recognition as the blonde vampire stepped around the
front of Angel's car. If his heart had been able, it
would have been pounding inside his chest.

Angel slipped quietly out of the shadow of the awning
over the pub window, and Cordelia stood riveted to her
spot beside the car's trunk as she watched to see how
this unexpected reunion would play itself out. As it
happened, all their preparations to prevent Willow
from fleeing turned out to be completely unnecessary.

"What are you doing here?" the small redhead asked,
her voice so completely bereft of emotion it sent a
chill of unease down Spike's back.

"Looking for you," he answered softly. "For what seems
like a century."

She shrugged, "I kind of figured when I stopped off
here that someone would trip over me sooner or later.
I stayed away from L.A. for the longest time just for
that reason. But in the end, I decided it didn't
really matter, anyway."

"You don't belong here, pet," Spike told her.

"I find I like the city. There's a certain anonymity
you can't get in a small town. And I've been in a few
dozen of those."

"But not long enough for anyone to get to know you,"
Angel guessed.

"Anonymity," she answered with the same dull
expression. "So, you found me. Now, what?"

"Now, I take you back home," Spike answered.

"I have to be here early tomorrow evening. I'm taking
Lila's shift. Doing a double, actually."

"Spike's right," Doyle spoke. "You don't belong here,
love. I saw the way the blokes in there were groping
you last night."

Spike's eyes darted to the half-demon, a bright blaze
of amber flashing angrily behind them, but Willow
merely looked impassively at the stranger.

"That must have been just before you ducked out to run
back and tell Angel you'd found me," she said.

"I meant what I said. I'm taking you back to Sunnyhell
with me," the blonde vampire informed her.

"Whatever," she responded. "Doesn't make much
difference."

Angel and Spike shared a brief glance of concern, and
Willow allowed them to usher her over to Angel's car.
***
Spike had pulled away from Angel's building with the
promise to keep him filled in on how Willow was doing
once he'd gotten her back to Sunnydale. He stole a
quick glance at her as he sped down the highway. He
didn't really know what kind of reaction he had
expected from her when he finally found her, but this
was certainly not it.

No tears, no outbursts, not a single flash of anger.
The redhead simply stared mutely out the window into
the darkness as the odometer rolled off the miles. The
few questions he had ventured to ask her had been met
with the briefest possible answers, and he soon gave
up on trying to get her to talk and turned the radio
on softly to help chase away the disturbing silence
inside the car.

"Your parents are still out of town," he said as he
neared the outskirts of Sunnydale. "I don't really
fancy you staying there alone, and the slayer says
you've been dropped from the university roles. I'm
taking you to the watcher's, at least for tonight."

"One sofa is pretty much the same as another," she
answered, her voice flat and even.
***
Angel had phoned the minute Spike and Willow had left
his apartment, and Giles, Buffy, and Xander were
watching expectantly from the living room window for
the first glimpse of the couple. Buffy yanked open the
door as their shadowy figures appeared outside, and
she flew to Willow and wrapped her arms around her.

"Oh, Will! I'm so glad you're home. You have no idea
how worried we've been," Buffy whispered through her
tears.

Giles' brow furrowed as he looked over at Spike.
Willow had neither returned the slayer's embrace nor
tried to fight her way out of it. She simply stood
stone still, her arms hanging limply at her sides, and
suffered Buffy's desperate embrace. The slayer's arms
finally slipped from around her, and she stepped back
and looked at her with obvious worry as Xander took
her place and gave the redhead a tight hug.

Giles placed a hand on Willow's arm, and Spike
followed as he escorted the young woman inside. She
sat down on the sofa, and the vampire sat beside her
and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her
ear.

"Are you hungry?" Giles asked. "I'd be glad to get you
something."

"No need. Don't bother," she answered.

"Perhaps some tea, then," he replied, inwardly
cringing at the formality in his tone.

He shot Spike a look, and the vampire rose and
followed him into the kitchen.

"What's wrong with her?" the former watcher asked
quietly.

"She's been like that since we found her," he
answered. "I tried to get her to talk to me on the
drive back, but I got just about as much as you did."

"Maybe she just needs some time to readjust," he
suggested. "It must have been upsetting to see you
again."

"If it was, she sure as hell didn't let on."

"Yes, well, let's give her a couple of days. Now that
she's back in familiar surroundings, maybe she'll
start to feel more comfortable again."

Spike was obviously unconvinced, and Giles' heart
ached as the vampire looked longingly across the
counter at the small woman.

"I want to stay here tonight," he said softly.

"I'm not sure that's wise," Giles told him.

"I need to be near her."

Giles acquiesced at the blatant pain that resided in
the icy blue eyes that looked back at him, "All
right."
***
Buffy and Xander had left in quiet sadness after
trying for an hour to get Willow to talk to them. Soon
afterward, Giles excused himself and went to his
bedroom. Willow took the blanket he had draped over
the back of the sofa and pulled it over her as she
laid down. Spike sank down on the chair directly
across from her and studied her in silence for several
minutes.

"I never wanted to hurt you, pet," he finally spoke.
"What happened back then--it wasn't what--"

He stopped as she turned on her side, placing her back
toward him. His eyes remained fixed on her, and he
waited until he heard her breathing take on the slow
rhythm of sleep before pushing himself quietly up out
of the chair.

Kneeling beside the sofa, he took her warm hand in
his, rubbing her soft skin with his thumb. Without
waking, Willow shifted onto her back, and he moved
closer and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"What the hell has happened to you?" Spike whispered
softly.

He settled himself beside the sofa, leaning against
it, her hand still in his, as the agonizing ache in
his heart caused tears to flow from his eyes.
******
Part 4:

"Willow, please," Giles pleaded softly. "I really
don't think you should leave right now."

Giles had awakened and walked into the living room to
find the redhead's suitcase waiting beside the door
while she finished her cup of coffee. He had been
afraid she was trying to bolt again, and her toneless
explanation that she needed to find an apartment
hadn't done much to assuage his fear. Spike had cast
him a frantic look. Giles knew the vampire couldn't
stop Willow from moving out if doing so required
physical force. The former watcher wasn't keen on the
idea, himself, but he had steeled himself for that
possibility, nonetheless.

"You look so tired," he continued as she listened
passively.

"I slept well enough."

"That isn't what I--" the man sighed and reached
across the table to lay a hand on her arm. "The truth
is, I'm afraid you'll leave town again if I let you
walk out that door."

She slid her arm out from under his hand and lifted
the mug of coffee to her lips.

"This place is as good as any," she told him. "One
town is pretty much the same as another."

Her constant display of detachment was no act, of that
Giles was certain. Her listlessness rattled him far
more than tears or angry indignation could ever have
done. At this point, any sign of emotion would have
been wholly welcomed.

"This isn't any town. It's your home," he reminded
her. "We want you here, Willow."

"I'm not planning on leaving," she answered.

"That's good," he nodded. "The spring semester is
nearly over, but you could register for a few summer
courses to make up for what you've missed. I'm sure
Buffy would love to go with you if you'd like to--"

She shook her head, "I'll find a job. Someone must be
hiring."

At a loss to know how to get through her stony
exterior, Giles rubbed a hand over his face and pushed
his chair back to stand up. Spike took his place as
the former watcher went around to the kitchen to pour
himself a cup of coffee.

"Pet," Spike spoke softly, trying to get her to meet
his eyes. "Tell me what it is that you need. Tell me
how to make it better."

"Alone," she answered. "You could just leave me
alone."

"You've been alone for months," he told her. "Have we
really hurt you so badly that you've completely shut
down? Luv, I hardly recognize this person sitting
across from me."

"I'm here, back in Sunnydale," she shrugged. "Isn't
that enough? Isn't that what you needed?"

"I'm talking about what _you_ need, Willow. Just tell
me, and I'll find a way to make it happen."

"I don't need anything. I'm fine."

The vampire wanted nothing more than to pull her into
his arms and hug the emotions back into her, but the
awful reality of feeling only her unresponsive body
close to his prevented him from making the move.

"If only you hadn't run off the way you did," he
whispered. "If only you'd given me the chance to tell
you what had really happened--"

"I need a shower," she decided, rising to set the
empty mug on the kitchen counter before disappearing
down the hallway, leaving Spike to stare sadly at her
vacated chair.
***
Angel found Spike sitting alone on a park bench. His
childe had been true to his word, phoning him weekly
to fill him in on Willow's progress--or rather, lack
of progress--since they'd returned to Sunnydale.
Spike's growing frustration over Willow's state of
mind had resulted in the blonde vampire actually
breaking down in tears of grief during their most
recent phone conversation.

The love/hate relationship between sire and childe had
spanned the course of decades. After their time
together in L.A. four weeks ago, when he had learned
of Spike's altered existence, Angel had found himself
redefining the bond between them. He was proud of the
way his childe continued to survive after the changes
he had been forced to undergo. And in spite of the
years of mutual animosity, Angel had never ceased
loving Spike.

Willow's life was a mere shadow of what it had once
been, and Angel had recognized the pain in Spike's
voice for what it was. His childe was devastated after
his many unsuccessful attempts to reach out to Willow.
Before, the blonde vampire would have resorted to
violence, a cruel and well-calculated show of force,
to get what he wanted. But that was no longer an
option. He may have succeeded in bringing Willow back,
but physical proximity was all he had won. Spike's
heart was breaking, bit by bit, every time Willow
turned her lifeless eyes on him.

Angel had hung up the phone, grabbed Doyle and
Cordelia, and headed for Sunnydale, determined to find
a way to get Spike his Willow.
*********
Part 5:

Angel had been carrying on a one-sided conversation
for nearly forty-five minutes with the silent redhead
seated in the chair across from him. Aside from the
fact that her green eyes occasionally followed the
vampire's sporadic pacing, Willow had given no
indication she had heard a word of what he had said.
Angel hadn't been able to elicit so much as a flutter
of emotion from her, and the dark vampire's initial
concern was giving way to impatience.

"How can you possibly not give a damn that you're
hurting the people who care most about you?" he asked.

"If that's true, then they should stop caring," she
answered.

"Like you have?" he snapped.

"This isn't about me."

His mouth dropped open, and his eyes stared back at
her, "How the hell can you say that? Who do you think
this _is_ about?"

"Them," she shrugged.

"I don't believe this," he told her. "You're one of
the most giving people I've ever known. How can you be
so callous toward them?"

"Angel, you don't want to hear what I think, not
really. Go back to L.A."

He knelt in front of her chair and took her limply
unresponsive hands in his, "I _do_ want to hear. You
just won't talk!"

Her clear calm eyes met his, "All right. I'll say this
once, and then you'll have heard it, and you can go
home."

"I'm listening."

"None of what they've done has been about me," she
told him. "It never was, and it still isn't."

"Look, I know that Oz hurt you, but--"

"This has nothing to do with Oz. I stopped caring
about all that a long time ago."

"Willow, you stopped caring about _everything_!"

She pulled her hands out of his as she stood up,
"Never mind."

"All right," he quickly relented. "I'm sorry. I won't
interrupt again. Just talk. Say anything. Anything you
want. I'll just listen."

She shook her head, "It won't make any difference. It
doesn't matter to me if you don't understand."

Doyle stepped out of the shelter of the hallway as
Willow pulled the front door closed behind her.

"Damn it," Angel muttered. "I couldn't have screwed
that up any better if I'd tried."

"It isn't entirely your fault," the half-demon
replied. "Cordelia and I are accustomed to a dark,
brooding lump who loathes the mere thought of company.
You, on the other hand--"

Angel shot him a look, "She's wrong about one thing. I
do understand, more than she thinks I do."

"You agree with her? All of this is really about her
band of mates, not her?"

"Doyle, there's always an element of selfishness
involved anytime anybody tries to help a friend who's
hurting. And the stunt they pulled to try to get
Willow over Oz was stupid and unthinking."

"And she can't forgive them?"

"She won't let herself. She's built up a wall to keep
them out. To keep them--or anyone else--from ever
being able to betray her like that again."

"And a damned fine wall it is, too. I don't see how
you're going to blast your way through it," Doyle told
him.

"I'm not," Angel agreed. "I can't. But someone else
can. Come on."

"Where are we going?" he asked as he followed the
vampire to the door.

"We're picking up Cordelia, and then we're going to
have a talk with Spike."
***
Angel had not planned on explaining his idea to Buffy.
Giles had politely excused himself when the vampire
had asked to speak with his childe. But Buffy had made
it clear that if this were about Willow, and if
Cordelia and Doyle were staying to listen, then she
deserved to hear it, too. The upshot of it all being
that Angel now found himself looking back at four
pairs of questioning eyes rather than the three pairs
that he had originally hoped for.

He focused his attention on the quiet blonde vampire
whose expression was so pained it drew an unconscious
breath of air from Angel's lungs.

"Spike, I tried to talk to Willow, but I really didn't
get very far," he began as he sat down beside him on
the sofa.

"Nobody does," he answered quietly. "She's gone so far
inside herself, I don't think anybody can bring her
back out."

"You're wrong," Angel's voice responded with
conviction, and Spike's eyes fixed on his sire's. "You
can."

"Angel, we've talked to her. We've all talked to her.
She just doesn't hear," Buffy spoke from over his
shoulder.

"Did I miss something?" he asked, looking up at her.
"I was under the impression that you'd all tried, but
when she wouldn't respond, you'd more or less give
up."

"Well, yes, but--"

"So you'd try to get through to her for--what, thirty
minutes, maybe an hour at the most--and then back
off," he continued.

"It's too hard, Angel!" Buffy contended. "To try to
talk to her and get nothing in return. Half of the
time she won't even look at me, and the other half of
the time, I'm sure she isn't listening. She doesn't
cry or yell. She doesn't get sad or angry. She just
sits there like I don't even exist. It's obvious she
just doesn't care either way about us. You can only
argue with that for so long before it just gets too
painful--"

"And then you give up," Angel nodded.

"And she wins," Cordelia added, catching on to where
the dark vampire was heading with this.

Doyle's mouth crooked into a grin as he looked down at
the brunette, "Which just reinforces the idea that
what Willow is doing--"

"Is working!" Cordy crowed, giving his arm a
triumphant squeeze.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Buffy grumbled
in confusion.

Angel turned back to Spike, "What you need is time--"

"We've had time! Weeks of time to try to get her--"

"Buffy," the name tumbled out on a snarl of
exasperation as Angel shot a dark look at her before
returning his attention to his childe. "I'm going to
the mansion and stock it with enough blood and food to
last for several days, Spike."

"Why?" he asked.

"You need to get Willow alone. In a place where there
won't be any distractions, where you can make her
listen to you."

"I can't make her do anything," Spike reminded him.
"Anyway, she never tries to avoid my attempts at
conversation, she just tunes them out.

"Just listen to me for a minute," his sire requested
and waited for Spike's nod. "Willow has spent months
erecting this wall around her heart. It's going to
take more than an hour here and there to chip your way
through it. You need the time to get in her face and
stay there, no matter how hard and how often she tries
to shut you out. Somewhere, deep inside her, she still
knows that you care. Otherwise, she wouldn't feel this
need to protect her heart."

"Okay, but even if Spike gets to the point where he
starts to get to her, what's to prevent her from just
running off again?" Cordelia asked.

"There's a room on the second floor, the only one I
ever found a key for--"

"You want Spike to lock her away in there--with him?"
Buffy shouted. "He's the last person she wants to be
alone with!"

"Because he's the one person who has the greatest
potential to hurt her," Doyle told her.

"You think Willow cares more about Spike than she does
about the rest of us?" Buffy asked him and leveled a
look of contempt at the blonde vampire. "If you hadn't
slept with her, she wouldn't have felt so betrayed in
the first place!"

"If _you_ hadn't conspired to get her mind off of Oz,
none of it would have happened at all," Angel reminded
her.

"Besides," Cordy added. "Willow and I may have had our
differences in the past, but I know her well enough to
know she wouldn't have climbed into bed with Spike if
she didn't love him."

"But she thinks I was using her," Spike said. "She
thinks it was all just a game to me."

"I'm not saying this is going to be easy," Angel told
him. "She isn't going to allow herself to believe a
word that you say. The way things are now, she can
listen to you with relative ease because she knows if
she just waits it out in stoical silence, it'll end
pretty quickly. This isn't going to work unless you
really want her, Spike. She isn't going to make it
easy for you. And hell knows, you're not the most
patient person."

"I could be. For her," Spike responded quietly.

Angel smiled softly and placed a hand on his shoulder,
"Can you get her to the mansion tomorrow night?"

He nodded, "I'll find a way."

"Good. Come on. I'll show you exactly what I have in
mind," his sire suggested as he rose from the sofa.

"Just for the record, I think this whole idea really
sucks," Buffy said as they headed toward the door.

Cordy turned back as the others stepped outside, "In
case you hadn't noticed, nobody asked you. If you
really want to know what _I_ think, though--"

"She doesn't, Princess," Doyle's voice spoke as his
hand reached inside and yanked her out the front door.
******
Part 6:
"This is what you wanted me to see?" Willow stopped in
her tracks as the dark gloomy mansion came into view.
"Why are we here?"

"I told you I'd explain everything," Spike answered.

"And everyone is going to leave me alone if I go
through with this crazy charade?"

"I promise," he nodded.

"Which really means nothing." The remark would have
stung if it had been spoken with any emotion
whatsoever, but Willow merely shrugged and resumed
walking, "Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

Spike led her inside the cold unlit building and
attempted to put his hand on her elbow, which she
quickly drew away.

"It's this way," he said and headed for the staircase.

He waited while she crossed the threshold into the
spacious bedroom. Angel had arranged for the delivery
of a bed, dresser, and nightstand, along with several
other necessary accessories, and Cordelia and Doyle
had spent the afternoon readying the room. The
shuttered windows had been nailed shut years ago, and
Willow moved further inside to peer through the heavy
shadows that enshrouded the obviously new furnishings.
Spike stepped inside and closed the door quietly as
she flicked on the lamp beside the bed. She turned
back just in time to see him lock the door and pocket
the key.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"It's just you and me, here, luv. For as long as it
takes," he answered her softly.

"As long as it takes? For what?" she questioned.

"For me to get through to you."

"I'm going to pretend this hasn't happened, and you
can just unlock that door, and--"

"No," he refused.

Her voice remained calm and even, as if the impact of
what he was telling her hadn't quite struck her yet,
"You can't keep me here."

"Why not? You've alienated anyone who might have
helped you. No one is going to be looking for you,
pet. No one is going to come to your rescue."

"I don't need rescuing," she reasoned. "You can't hurt
me. I'm not afraid of you."

"Yes, you are. And yes, I can hurt you. I've already
proven that, haven't I?" he said. "But it's the last
thing I want to--"

She moved around to an overstuffed armchair,
depositing herself in it with a resigned sigh, "Fine.
Talk until your fangs rot our of your head. The sooner
you get started, the sooner you'll be done, and I can
get out of here."

"You're not hearing me, luv," he shook his head and
walked over to her. "You aren't leaving here. Not for
a very long time. Not until I blow that damned wall
you've built around you clear to hell."

The vampire watched as the cold veil the redhead had
perfected suddenly dropped down over her features,
separating herself from him, the room, the situation
she found herself in. He knelt and took her hands,
holding them firmly, stubbornly refusing to let the
fact she didn't react to his touch affect him. He
raised one hand to her cheek, caressing it lightly
with his cold palm.

"I'm going to get in there," he promised her softly.
"You may believe you can shut me out indefinitely, but
I wrote the book on pig-headedness."

Her eyes never wavered from his, but Spike had the
chilling sensation that she was looking right past
him. Shaking it off, he reached behind him and tugged
at the large ottoman that had been delivered with the
rest of the furniture. He sat down on it, propping his
elbows on either arm of the chair, and leaned in close
to her.

"I hurt you Willow. I never meant to, but I did," he
said. "What started out as a game for the slayer and
her fool, and a means of survival for myself, ended up
being something I never expected. She never meant for
us to share a bed. I was only supposed to distract
you, to get your mind off of--the pain you'd been
through. When I made love to you, that's exactly what
it was. Love."

Willow didn't appear to be listening to him, but the
vampire plowed right on ahead all the same, "If the
git hadn't seen you, that night at the Bronze, you'd
have heard me tell the slayer to take her damned game
and shove it right up her ass. I had no intention of
letting you go. I knew that you loved me. You told me
you did, remember?"

She looked back at him with detached disinterest, as
if he were telling her a story about somebody else.

"You didn't know I'd fallen in love with you weeks
before you'd spoken those words to me. I didn't care
what she threatened me with. I wanted you, and I was
going to keep you. You never gave me the chance to
tell you any of that. I tried to find you for days. I
couldn't believe you'd actually left town. Even after
that note you left in the dorm, I couldn't believe
you'd really stay away. Willow, I love you. I--"

"If you're not going to let me out of here tonight, I
might as well get some sleep," she announced, pushing
him away from her and going to the bed.

Without drawing back the covers, she laid down and
reached for the switch on the lamp, throwing the room
into silent darkness. Spike sank down onto the
armchair and squeezed his eyes shut, but red tears of
anguish trickled out, nonetheless.
******

Part 7:
Spike awoke to find Willow digging through the deep
pockets of his duster, which he had thrown over the
ottoman at some point during the night.

"It isn't in there," he told her.

She looked over at him, "I'm hungry. Let me out of
here."

He shook his head and unfolded his lean frame from the
plush depths of the armchair, "I'll get you
something."

She followed close behind him as he went to the door.

He pulled the key from a pocket in his jeans and
unlocked the door, then turned and looked down at her,
"I'll get us both something, and then we can talk."

"I'm going home," she told him.

"You are home, for now," he replied and steeled
himself for the pain he knew he was about to
experience.

She gasped in surprise as he suddenly gripped her
shoulders and shoved her with enough force to send her
flying back toward the bed. She landed on the floor
and scrambled to her feet, only to hear Spike locking
the door from the other side.
***
Spike nearly dropped the carton of orange juice he had
retrieved from the cooler sitting on top of the
counter. He whirled around toward the unexpected
presence to find Angel's concerned eyes fastened on
him.

"How the bloody hell did you get here?" Spike asked.

"I came before sunrise," his sire answered. "Cordelia
asked me to bring this, just in case."

He held out a cell phone, which Spike took and set on
the counter, "Thanks."

"How is she doing?"

"She isn't. Angel, I don't think this is going to
work."

"It will. It has to. But it's going to take time,
probably a lot of it. You're sure you can do this?"

"If I have to," he nodded. "She's just so--far away.
Nothing I say seems to get through."

"Spike, you know Willow, and that woman up there isn't
her. She needs you. If you can't pull this off, nobody
can."

"It just hurts, you know?" the blonde vampire admitted
softly, casting a hesitant sideways look at Angel. "I
really think she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you. Her heart is hurting as much as
yours is," he assured him. "Don't give up on her,
Spike. No matter how hard she pushes you away, hold on
tighter. It's going to take a lot of pressure to knock
that wall down, but I know it can be done."

"Just keep telling me that," his childe requested.

"I will," Angel promised with a small smile.

Spike reached for a bag of blood from inside the
cooler and shook his head thoughtfully, "When did you
stop being such a wanker?"

"Probably about the same time you discovered what hell
being a vampire can actually be," his sire chuckled as
Spike looked at the bag with distaste. "Doyle is
bringing a microwave over later on."

"Good. I hate this stuff cold," Spike nodded.

He emptied the blood into a paper cup and stared down
into it for a moment.

"Spike?" Angel spoke, his voice edged with worry.

"I'm all right. It's just--"

Angel took an unneeded breath as Spike looked over at
him with tear-rimmed eyes. The dark vampire was in
front of him in one long stride, wrapping his arms
around his grieving childe. Spike clung to him like a
life preserver, his shoulders heaving as he wept red
tears.

"You'll get her back. I'll move hell itself, if that's
what it takes," Angel promised softly. "Your Willow is
still in there. She just needs you to find her."

Spike nodded slightly and drew away, scrubbing away
the bloody tears on his cheeks, "I'd better take this
up to her."

Angel watched as he quickly downed the glass of cold
blood, then scooped up the orange juice and a few
pieces of fruit and headed for the stairs.

"I'll be here, if you need me," Angel told him.

Spike gave him a weak smile before starting up.
***
It was late morning before Doyle and Cordelia showed
up at the mansion. Angel had managed to get enough of
a fire going in the fireplace to take the chill off
his unnaturally cold body, and it was with open
gratitude that he took the thermos of coffee Cordy
offered to him.

"This place could do with some furniture," Doyle
announced, his eyes traveling over the large, empty
room.

"This place could do with a wrecking ball," Cordelia
corrected him. "How's the happy couple?"

"Not very happy," Angel answered.

"Oh," she answered, her mouth twitching into a sad
frown. "Still, it's only a matter of time. Right?"

"Right," he nodded and cast her a fond smile and
turned as a familiar voice called from the door.

"Angel?" Buffy spoke. "There's a microwave sitting out
here."

"I'll see to that," Doyle said. "Princess, I could use
a touch of your culinary expertise."

"My culi-who?" Cordy asked, trailing off behind him.
"If that was some kind of an insult, buster--"

The slayer waited until their voices faded, then
looked over at Angel, "Have you been here all night?"

"No," he answered. "Not all night."

"I take it they haven't fallen into each other's arms
yet," she said dryly, looking over toward the stairs.
"Angel, I've been thinking. This isn't going to work.
Willow doesn't want to be with any of us, especially
not with Spike. I can't see what good any of this--"

"Somebody's got to reach her," Angel interrupted. "You
can't really believe she wants to spend the rest of
her life locked up inside herself. That's a hell of an
existence; believe me."

"I do," she answered sincerely. "And no one wants the
old Will back more than I do, but doing it this way--I
mean, locking her up there with Spike--it just isn't
right. Even if he does manage to get through to her,
what's going to happen when he leaves her? It's going
to be Oz all over again."

"What makes you think he's going to leave her?"

"Come on! This is Spike we're talking about! He
wouldn't know love if it bit him in the ass!"

"What do you call all those years he spent with Dru?"
Angel asked her.

"Obsession. And he left her--"

"Other way around," he reminded her, his voice growing
cool. "And Dru never returned that love, not the way
Willow did--will again, once Spike gets through to
her. I wouldn't have wanted Spike anywhere near her
before, either. But he's changed, in more ways than I
would have ever though possible. If they want to be
together, I'll support them."

"How could you? He doesn't deserve Willow! He's a
cold, evil-hearted bastard!"

"Buffy--"

"No! I mean it! Gods, you've locked him alone in a
room with her. He could be telling her anything!"

"He loves her--"

"Who cares!"

"I do!" Angel shouted. "He's my childe, Buffy."

"He's the biggest mistake you ever created," she
yelled back. "The only reason he's changed--if he has
at all--is because he was forced into it. He's caused
nothing but hell for all of us. If you aren't going to
put a stop to this, I am."

He grabbed for her arm as she spun around, "Where do
you think you're going?"

"To unlock that damned door and get Willow out of
here."

"No," he refused. "I won't let you do that. He loves
her. He wants her. And Willow loves him. She just
can't see past all the hurt--"

"HE caused the hurt!"

Angel growled softly and gripped her arm tighter, "YOU
caused the hurt. You shoved them together. You
threatened Spike's life if he didn't go along with it.
He already had feelings for her. He was bound to fall
in love with her after you forced him to spend hours
alone with her. Now, you want to destroy any chance he
has of getting her back. I'm telling you, Buffy, I
won't let you do that. Leave them alone."

"The hell I will," she snarled and jerked her arm
free. "I AM going up there Angel, so you'd better
decide whose side you're on--mine or your precious
childe's."

"Done," he complied and slammed his fist into her
face.

She staggered backwards, pain flashing through her
eyes as she raised her hand to her jaw, "Angel--"

"Everybody else seems to be dealing with this," he
hissed, his voice low with anger. "Giles, Cordelia,
even Xander. If you can't accept it, that's your
problem. There's no way in hell I'm going to let you
get between those two. Get out."

"Angel--"

"Now," he barked.

Her eyes pooled with tears as she stared over at him
for a moment, then turned on her heel and fled the
mansion. Cordelia immediately reappeared from the
kitchen, followed by Doyle, who was carrying a warm
mug of blood.

"Doyle's got the microwave all set up," she said
brightly, smiling happily toward the door through
which Buffy had just run.

"Well done, mate," Doyle grinned and patted Angel's
shouder.
*****
Part 8:

Willow was standing beside one of the two boarded up
windows in the bedroom, staring at the nailed shutters
as though she could see through them.

"Is the sun up?" she asked quietly.

Spike looked up at her from his seat in the armchair.
They were the first words she'd spoken to him in more
than an hour.

"It's morning," he answered. "Nine o'clock. Are you
hungry?"

She shook her head and turned to perch on the edge of
the bed. He watched her as she fiddled with the
magazine he had brought up to her.

"How long have I been here? I've lost track of the
days."

"Almost a week, pet," he answered rising to cross the
room and sit beside her.

"I want to go home."

He shook his head and reached for her hand, "Not until
you listen to me."

"I have listened."

"No, you haven't. I've talked endlessly for six days,
and nothing's gotten into that pretty head of yours. I
meant what I said when I first brought you here. I'm
not letting you out until you let me in."

"They have to be looking for me. You know that."

He forced a sigh from his lips and ran his fingers
through her silken locks, "They know where you are,
Willow. All of them know."

Her eyes moved up to his, "For how long?"

"Since this whole thing began. Who do you think
arranged to have everything brought here? I didn't
order the furniture and gather the things that you'd
need by myself," he told her.

"Angel," she said softly. "Why can't you all just let
me be?"

The question carried the slightest note of tense
frustration, and Spike's dead heart yearned to skip a
beat. It was the first true sign of emotion he'd heard
pass through her lips.

"In a thousand eternities, I could never let you be,
Willow," he vowed. "I love you. Even when you hate me,
I love you. That isn't going to change. Not ever."

"I don't hate you," she responded.

"I know. You don't feel anything," he nodded with a
small smile. "I don't buy that, luv. You do feel, and
it scares you. So you try your damndest to block the
feelings out, but it doesn't work. It can't. Not
forever."

Her stony facade wavered for only the briefest of
seconds, but Spike saw the clear flicker of pain that
passed over her face. Realizing he was staring at her,
she stood up and turned away from him.

"I'd like some coffee," she requested, her voice
resuming its former toneless quality. "Please."

"All right, pet," he nodded and went to the door.
"I'll be right back."
***
Angel laid aside the thick book he was reading as he
heard his childe's footsteps descending the stairs. He
leapt to his feet as he caught a glimpse of Spike's
expression.

"Something happened," the dark vampire spoke.

Spike stepped off the bottom stair and nodded, "Just a
little crack, hardly a crack at all, really. But I saw
it, Angel, and she knows that I did."

A broad grin spread across his sire's face, "It's
started. You're getting through."

"I told her that all of you are involved in this
scheme. Well, all except for the bloody slayer, but I
didn't bother mentioning that fact. It isn't important
enough to matter, anyway. I think it rattled her,
knowing that none of you would be coming after her."

Angel nodded and placed a hand on his arm, "She knows
there's no way out. You're going to win this battle of
wills, Spike. Keep pushing."

"She asked for coffee," he said, turning toward the
kitchen.

"Let me. You haven't fed this morning. I'll get it.
Sit down and give your brain a rest."

"I can't," he answered, glancing back up the stairs.
"Not as long as she's like this."

"I know. Just--give yourself a few minutes before you
go back up there. Go on; sit down."
***
Willow looked across at the locked bedroom door. She
had sent Spike after coffee just to get him out of the
room for a few minutes, but she could hear his
footsteps as he approached the room from the hallway,
and she silently cursed him for returning so quickly.

The redhead desperately wanted to be alone, even for
just an hour. She had been certain if she just
maintained a reserved silence he would give up in a
day or two and let her leave. But that day or two had
turned into a week, and except for a few brief
excursions downstairs and fifteen minutes once an
evening to grab a quick shower, the blonde vampire had
never left her side.

She had even gone so far as to lock herself in the
bathroom under the pretense of the world's longest
bath. However, that plan had been thwarted when, after
ten minutes, Spike had shouted a warning that if she
didn't reappear within five minutes, he was breaking
down the door and coming in after her. That had
occurred on her second day of captivity, and she had
not attempted the idea since.

Spike entered the room and relocked the door and
extended the mug of hot coffee to her. She took it and
immediately turned away from him. Not once had he
attempted any physical contact with her, except for
the occasional gentle hand, and even then, he
acquiesced in silence whenever she drew away from his
touch. His constant presence, his long soft monologues
that continued on unabated no matter how obviously she
was ignoring him, were beginning to wear on her.

"Please, Spike. Could I have just a few more minutes?"
she asked, not looking around at him.

"Do you know how beautiful you are when you're
sleeping?" he asked as though he had not heard her. "I
spent hours watching you that night we made love,
after you'd drifted to sleep beside me. I've watched
you every night, in this room, as well."

She turned to face him and tried again, "Please?"

"You love me, Willow," he smiled over at her. "You may
not want to. You may want me to believe that you
don't. But you do."

She lowered her head and shook it softly, and he
watched as her stony mask fell into place. However,
that slight glimmer of the old Willow she had let slip
before he had left her a few minutes ago had provided
the vampire with hope he had not felt in months.

"You know what I liked most about making love to you?"
he continued, a gleam of mischief lighting his eyes.
"Actually, there were a lot of things I liked, but one
of them was the way you looked up at me when you
breathed my name. No one's ever made me feel that way,
luv. Not Dru, not anybody."

She set the mug on the nightstand and walked around
the bed, distancing herself from him as much as
possible. He watched as she willed herself to shut his
words out, then rounded the bed to stand so close to
her side, she could feel his cool body next to hers.

He lowered his head until his mouth was mere inches
from her ear and whispered, "Where are you,
sweetheart? Where do you go when you pull away like
this? Do you go back to that night, too?"

He moved closer still, careful not to actually touch
her and lowered his voice until it was hardly a
whisper, "You want me, Willow."

She shook her head slightly and took a step away. He
chuckled and followed her movements.

"You'd feel a whole lot better if you'd just admit it.
I'm not going anywhere Willow. You can't deny me
forever."

She raised her head, turning it to look up at him, and
he reacted instinctively, lowering his mouth to
capture hers. The taste of her sweet breath on his
lips was almost ecstasy for him. Almost. His heart
ached at her complete lack of response, but he
stubbornly shoved the sharp disappointment away as he
broke the soft kiss.

"Like fine wine," his words carried a cockiness that
he certainly did not feel. "Decidedly chilled wine,
but wine all the same."

Willow moved around him with an icy glare, "Go away."

"Where would I go without you, pet?" he smiled back at
her, reveling in the small note of anger in her voice.
"You're my whole unlife. I love you."

"I wish you'd stop saying that. It isn't true."

"You know it is. You're glad it is," he told her.

She headed for the bathroom door, but he was behind
her immediately, placing his hand on it and banging it
closed before she could open it more than an inch or
two. His arms came down on either side of her as she
turned and pressed her back against the door.

"Yes, pet, yes," he mind crowed in triumph as her
hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Don't do this. Please don't do this," she implored
him.

He willed the tears that were forming in her eyes to
spill over her cheeks even as she fought to control
them. Willow clenched her jaw and shook her head,
stubbornly forcing them away.

"I love you," he said as he stepped into her, pressing
his body against hers.

"It does not matter," she responded coldly,
enunciating each word, drilling them forcefully into
her own mind. "I will never put myself in that
position again."

"I'll never put you in that position again. And it
does matter," he contended, watching in dread as she
visibly fought to regain her mental distance. "Because
in spite of everything, you love me."

Her eyes suddenly hardened, and the vampire's body
went rigid as the well-constructed wall slammed down
around her emotions with a force he fancied he could
literally feel. This time, when her eyes returned to
his, they were as cold and unfeeling as they had ever
been.

"I think I'd like my coffee now, while it's still
warm," she said, effectively ending their
confrontation.

His hands dropped to his sides as she stepped around
him, and he felt the overwhelming urge to pick up the
nearest item to hand and fling it into the wall.

"She won't make it easy for you," his sire's words
echoed in the blonde vampire's ears, and Spike
struggled to regain his control. He turned to find
Willow propped up against the headboard of the bed,
sipping her coffee and flipping through the pages of
the magazine.

Spike walked to the armchair and flopped down in it,
stretching his long legs out over the ottoman. He
stared at her in silence for several minutes.

"Have I mentioned that I love you, sweetheart?" he
asked loudly.

The redhead's eyes never left the magazine, but Spike
smiled to himself as her body tensed ever so slightly.
******
Part 9:
"Heads up," Cordelia said as she preceded Doyle
through the door. "There's a bitch following us, and
it's wearing blonde hair."

Spike snorted in amusement as he paused at the bottom
of the stairs. Angel stood and looked over at him.

"Need me to stay?" his childe offered.

"No," he shook his head. "The last time she was here,
she threatened to drag Willow out of here. You'd
better go up and stay with her."

Spike nodded and took the stairs two at a time,
disappearing from view as Buffy came through the door.
She looked around at the trio, her eyes finally
settling on the dark vampire.

"I came to apologize," she said softly.

He stood in silence, waiting for her to continue.

"I know you're only trying to help Will. I may not
agree with the way you're going about it, but I know
you mean well."

"That's good," Angel nodded. "But she isn't leaving
here, Buffy. If you've come here to try to--"

"I haven't. I'm not going to lie to you. I want no
part of what you guys are doing here, but I talked to
Giles, and even he takes your side. I won't interfere,
as long as Willow is safe."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Cordelia's eyes
narrowed defensively. "You think we're going to hurt
her?"

"Not intentionally," Buffy answered. "But I still
think you're putting way too much trust in Spike."

"Listen," Angel spoke. "You're the one who dragged him
into all this to begin with. Whether you want to
believe it or not, he really does love her. He hasn't
tried to force her to do anything she hasn't wanted to
do."

"Other than refusing to let her out of that dusty old
room," the slayer responded dryly.

"I'm not going to argue this with you--"

"I didn't come here to argue," she assured him, then
looked over at Cordelia and Doyle. "I'd really rather
not discuss this in front of them."

"Should I feel insulted?" Doyle asked Cordelia.

"Consider the source," she replied and shot Buffy a
withering glance before tugging him off to the
kitchen.

The slayer sighed and walked to the fireplace, sitting
down and looking up at Angel, "I'd like to see her.
Just for a minute--"

"No," he said firmly.

"Angel, I don't understand you! You know me better
than anyone else! I--"

"Yes, I do. That's why you aren't going up there," he
told her. "You'll start in on her and make everything
worse."

"Thank you!" she shouted angrily. "So, everyone else
gets to see her except me? Out of everyone involved,
I'm the one person you don't trust?"

"No one else has seen her, either," he informed her.

She rose to her feet, staring incredulously at him,
"Are you telling me the only person she's been with
for the past week is Spike? What the hell are you
thinking? You don't have any idea how she is, do you?"

"Damn it, Buffy," he snarled. "I know what I'm doing.
Spike is not going to hurt her. He's the one person
who can help her. Why can't you see that? Does your
hatred for him cloud your thinking so badly that you
can't admit he's the best thing for her?"

"Okay, okay," she raised her hands in surrender. "I
don't trust him, but I do trust you. Gods, I didn't
even come here to get into all of this again. I really
just wanted to tell you that if I can do anything to
help, I will."

Angel's voice softened, and he gave her a weak smile,
"The best thing you can do for her right now is to
give her some time. I know she's been locked up in
there for a long time, and I understand why you're
worried. I really do. But he's making progress."

"Is he?" she asked hopefully. "What kind of progress?"

"Nothing earth-shattering, yet," he admitted. "But
she's starting to open up--just a little bit and just
for a short time before she closes back down
again--but it's a start."

She considered this for a moment before finally
nodding, "Yes, it is. It's better than the rest of us
have been able to do. Maybe I really am wrong about
Spike. For what it's worth, Angel, I really hope that
I am."

"I know," he said softly.

"Okay. I'm going to get out of your way," she said and
began to walk toward the door.

She stopped as she felt his hand on he arm, and she
turned back to look up at him.

"I know how hard this if for you, Buffy. This isn't
about you being in the way, not really. What Willow
needs from the all of us is just to be patient while
Spike does the rest."

"And I'm not the most patient of people, especially
where he's concerned," the slayer smiled. "But I'll
learn to be, if that's what Will needs me to do."

His hand brushed over her cheek as he returned her
gentle smile, "It is. Thank you. And, um, I'm sorry
about hitting you."

"Even if you do think I deserved it for doubting your
beloved--," she stopped herself with a grin and folded
her hand over his. "No, forget that. Anyway, I'm the
one who owes you the thanks--for trying to help Will.
See you later, okay?"
***
Spike was trying to keep his attention on Willow, but
his mind kept wandering back down the stairs. The fact
that he was distracted and strangely on edge was
clearly apparent to the small redhead.

The vampire looked over to find her watching him
closely, and couldn't decide whether her eyes
reflected concern or merely relief that he had spoken
less than three sentences since he had returned. He
hoped it was the former. He was afraid it was the
latter. Making up his mind to trust his sire to remove
any obstacles the slayer might throw in their already
rocky path, he moved over to the bed and sat down
beside her.

"Miss me?" he asked, gracing her with a smug grin.

"Like a migraine," she answered, then frowned at
herself for letting that small bit of sarcasm slip.

He chuckled softly and smoothed a strand of hair away
from her shoulder, "I miss you. All the time."

"You're always here," she told him in the same level
tone he had become accustomed to hearing from her.

"And you're always--not," he responded. "If I ask you
a question, will you give me an honest answer?"

"Maybe," she shrugged.

"What would it take to convince you I'm sorry, that I
never meant to hurt you, that the only thing I really
want is to love you?"

"Why should I answer that?" she asked sincerely.

"Because I'd like to know, so I could do whatever it
is that you need," he relied.

"You won't listen, anyway. You won't believe what I
say."

"Try me," he suggested.

"All right," she conceded and stood up, taking several
paces away from the bed and turning around to face
him. "I don't want you to convince me of any of those
things. I want you to let me out of here. I want to
live my own life, and I want you to live yours--away
from me."

"But you don't live, pet," he told her, refusing to
let her cold declarations pierce through to his heart.
"You just exist, just barely. Don't you miss the
person you used to be, Willow?"

"I hate her," she answered calmly.

Spike moaned softly and rose to stand before her,
reaching for her hands and holding them gently, "Don't
say that."

"Why not? It's the truth," she asserted.

"Then tell me why you hate her."

She shrugged casually, "Because she let people hurt
her--"

"Luv, it wasn't as if she had a choice. The hurting
was done _to_ her, not _because_ of her."

"I don't want to talk about this with you," she
decided.

"Or anyone else," he added. "You say you want me to
give up and just let you go. Why should I do that?
Explain it to me, so I'll understand. Who knows? You
may even convince me you're right. Worth a shot, isn't
it?"

"Don't ever go into psychiatry. You'd be really awful
at it," she said coldly.

"What's that? An excuse to get out of explaining
yourself? You're just afraid I'll be able to argue any
valid point you think you have."

"I don't care if you can," she told him.

"Fine. So if you don't care, what's the difference if
you tell me?"

She shook her hands free of his, and he turned to
follow her with his eyes as she began to wander the
room.

"Will you listen?" she asked, bringing her eyes to
his. "Will you be quiet and just listen?"

He nodded.

"Okay," she agreed, and he waited while she took a
moment to organize her thoughts. "Everyone thought I
was devastated when Oz left, and I was, for a long
time. He was the first person I ever opened myself up
to. The first guy I ever really let all the way in.
You know what I mean?"

He nodded again.

"After he left me, it hurt--like nothing I'd ever felt
before. And I felt betrayed that he got to decide what
was best for the both of us, that my point of
view--what I wanted and needed--didn't count. He was
just gone, and there wasn't anything I could do about
it. But I was really moving past it. I was finally
admitting that he didn't define who I was. I was even
beginning to think that maybe he was the one who lost
out. And do you know why I was beginning to feel that
way?"

He swallowed, knowing he didn't want to hear what was
coming and at the same time knowing he couldn't stop
it. She needed to say it, no matter how much it hurt
him.

"Because of all the hours I spent with _you,_" she
continued. "You made me believe I had something to
give. Something real. Something valuable. You sucked
me in so far, with your lies and deceit, I was
actually believing you saw those attributes in me, and
you liked them, and you wanted them, and you wanted
me."

His eyes shifted away from hers as his heart clenched
in his chest, but she continued on with no trace of
bitterness, no anger. She sounded for all the world as
if she were discussing something of no importance with
someone who was of equally no importance.

"And then that night, at the Bronze, when I
accidentally walked in on the three of you, the truth
slapped me right in the face. Everything we'd shared,
every second we'd spent together was a farce. A means
to shut me up so my friends wouldn't have to listen to
me prattling on about something," here she paused and
waited for him to look at her again, "that shouldn't
have mattered in the first place. He betrayed me. They
betrayed me. You betrayed me. And it hurt like hell.
And it shouldn't have, but it did. Because I let it. I
let all of it matter. It took weeks, after I left
town, to figure it all out. But I did, finally. I
ended up hurting because I cared. It won't happen
again."

Spike was staring at her; any hopes that he had made
any progress with her whatsoever now lay dashed into
thousands of sharp shards of pain at his feet.

"You can keep me here until I turn to dust and blow
away. I learned my lesson, Spike. I learned it well.
Never again will I be anyone's fool."

The blonde vampire moved to the door on legs he was
unable to feel underneath him, exiting the room and
turning the key in the lock. From downstairs, Angel
heard the door close. A pang of alarm shot through him
when his childe failed to appear, and he bolted from
his seat at the fireplace and dashed up to him.

Spike was seated on the topmost step, his knees tucked
up close to his chest, his arms wrapped around his
legs. The rigid posture of his body, the stunned
expression on his face, shook his sire far worse than
sobs of pain would have done.

"Spike," Angel murmured, sitting down next to him and
draping an arm around his shoulders. "Gods, Spike.
What happened?"

"It won't work," the reply was painfully strained with
loss. "I can't get through to her--"

"Yes, you can. You are," he hushed him, leaning his
head against his childe's. "Spike, tell me what
happened."

"I've lost her, Angel. She's gone," he whispered and
turned and leaned his head against his sire's chest as
silent tears began to flow.
*****
Part 10:
Angel dragged Spike into the living room and shoved
him down in front of the warming fire. He listened
intently, dark eyes fixed upon the blonde vampire, as
Spike repeated, almost verbatim, everything that
Willow had said to him.

Cordelia clutched tightly at Doyle's arm and cast her
worried gaze on the blonde vampire while Angel went to
the kitchen to warm a mug of blood for Spike and to
give himself a few minutes to think over what Willow
had said. He returned and sat down and handed the mug
to Spike, who wordlessly accepted it only to stare
down into its contents.

"Drink it," his sire ordered quietly and smoothed a
gentle hand over the back of his blonde hair.

Cordy inhaled a shaky breath and looked up at the
half-demon standing close to her side, "This is so not
good."

"Actually, it might be," Angel contradicted her.

Spike's eyes moved quickly to his, but Angel shook his
head and placed his palm under the mug, pushing it
gently up to his childe's lips.

"Not until you drink that," he insisted.

Spike quickly complied, draining the mug and setting
it down on the floor beside his feet, then returned
his gaze to Angel.

"Do you realize what happened up there a few minutes
ago?"

Spike's expression grew anguished, and a bolt of pain
flashed through his eyes, "I failed her. I shot any
chance I had of getting her back straight to hell."

Angel's hand encircled the blonde vampire's forearm
and squeezed firmly, as if willing some of his own
strength directly into his languishing childe, "No,
Spike, you didn't. You drew out of her exactly what
the rest of us have been trying to get at ever since
we found her, and you brought her back here. I think I
came close, a few days ago. At least, I think that's
what she was going to tell me. But I couldn't get her
to take that last step, to open up to either herself
or to me, and tell me exactly what drove her to escape
inside herself."

"But what difference does it make? It didn't matter to
her if I knew," Spike replied.

"Of course it mattered to her. Why else would she have
been so reluctant to voice it all these weeks? She
hasn't wanted anyone to understand. Understanding
implies some sort of connection. She's been fighting
that with all of us. Spike, you got it out of her. She
may not know it, but it's a huge step. I don't think
she could have said all of that to anyone other than
you."

"You think?" he asked, a hesitant tone of hope
creeping into his voice.

He nodded, "And you shouldn't be down here right now.
You should be up there, with her. My guess is she's
regretting she ever admitted all of that to you."

"I don't know," Spike said softly, looking over toward
the stairs. "You didn't hear her. There was no emotion
in her voice whatsoever."

"How badly do you want her back?" the question was
voiced as a challenge, and Angel forced back a grin as
Spike's body tensed. "Everything she says, every
unspoken action, is calculated to keep you at a
distance. She's had months--since long before we found
her in L.A.--to forge that shield she holds up in
front of her. You've changed, Spike. You've had to,
just to survive. Maybe you're not strong enough,
anymore, to--"

"Like hell I'm not," the blonde vampire snarled as he
rose to his feet. "She thinks she's stubborn? She
hasn't even MET bloody stubborn."

Angel grinned over at Doyle as Spike stomped toward
the stairs. He vaulted onto the third step from the
bottom, turned around, and looked down at his sire.

"Thanks, mate," he smiled knowingly.

Angel laughed softly and gave him a nod.
***
Willow rose from the armchair as the key turned in the
lock. Spike stepped inside and banged the door closed
behind him, locking it yet again, and looked at her.

"Hey, pet," he smiled over at her.

Warily, she took in the bright glimmer in his eyes, "I
told you what you wanted to hear. Are you going to let
me leave, now?"

He crossed the room and gently pushed her back down
into the chair, then plopped down on the ottoman in
front of her.

"I heard you out, right?" he said.

She nodded.

"Right. Your turn."

"My turn? For what?"

"To hear me out, of course, ducks," he answered.

"I've been hearing you out for a week," she pointed
out.

"Yeah, well," he responded, propping his elbows on the
arms of the chair and bringing his mouth to within
inches of hers. "Indulge me."

"Okay," she nodded, though a flash of uneasy confusion
passed over her face.

"I love you, Willow," he began, cutting off her
attempt to respond to his words. "I guess I can
understand why you don't want to hear that, but I'm
going to keep saying it until you do. I'm sorry for
what happened. And you're right; you were betrayed--by
the wolf, by your friends, by me. But I'm not entirely
sorry about that."

"You're not?" she repeated icily.

"Nope. Because what started out as a betrayal, and may
I remind you, I was dragged into that scheme--I liked
you. The slayer knew it, and she used it."

"You didn't have to agree to--"

"Shut up, beautiful," he demanded. "As I was saying,
what started out as a betrayal ending up with me
falling in love with you. And you with me."

He stopped and stared into her eyes, daring her to
deny his last statement. When she didn't, he nodded in
satisfaction and went on.

"So, in a way, that betrayal was the best thing that
ever happened to either of us. No one is ever going to
love you the way I do. And if you're going to be
brutally honest with yourself--and I can't imagine
that you wouldn't be, since you like brutal honesty so
well--you're never going to love anybody else the way
you love me."

"I don't. I don't care, anymore--"

"Someone in this room is lying, pet," he said softly.
"I know you love me."

She shook her head as his mouth moved ever closer to
hers.

"Want me to kiss the truth out of you?"

"No," she whispered, desperation seeping into her
voice.

"Might be fun," he grinned wickedly, realizing she
hadn't even heard the admission implicitly stated in
that single word.

"Spike," the word was spoken in warning.

"Yes, luv," he answered, his lips brushing ever so
softly against hers.

"I do not--"

"Love me," he turned the declaration around on her and
captured her lips in a firm kiss.

Her body remained motionless; she neither returned the
kiss nor moved to break it, and his lips curled into a
soft grin against hers.

"Love me," he repeated against her mouth before
kissing her once again.

"I can't," she refused, placing her hands on his
shoulders and pushing him away to rise and walk around
him.

"Yes, you can. I won't hurt you again. I never wanted
to hurt you in the first place."

"But you did. They all did. I won't allow--"

"I'm learning a few things from you," he cut her off.

"What?" she asked, completely thrown by the statement.

"Like how to just ignore what you don't want to hear,"
he smiled. "You don't want to hear that I love you,
and I don't want to hear that you don't love me. Works
out okay, don't you think?"

She shook her head and turned her back to him as he
suddenly rose to his feet, "I won't let you do this."

"Doesn't matter--isn't that how that phrase goes?" he
asked. "I'm going to do it, anyway."

"Come on, pet, get angry," he pleaded silently, hoping
against hope to see her drop the stony wall, even for
just a moment. He placed his hand on her shoulder and
turned her around to him.

"You shouldn't do that, luv."

"Do what?" she asked tonelessly.

"Turn away when I get too close, especially if you
really want me to believe you don't give a damn.
Hiding your face from me is a dead give-away."

"I don't know what you want from me."

"Of course you do," he replied. "Tell me you love me."

"Will you back off if I do?"

He chuckled softly, "What? You're going to recite
those words with no expression at all, and then I'm
supposed to fade out of your life? First of all, you
CAN'T say those words without feeling them, because
you do, and we both know it. And second of all, hell
no, I won't back off. I'll move closer."

"Then why should I bother to say them at all?" she
asked coldly.

He shrugged, "Because they're the truth."

"Since when can you read my mind?"

"I can't read your mind, but I can read your heart
because I'm in there."

He took a step forward as she took one back.

"Why did you tell me all of that--all of what you felt
before you ran off?" he questioned her.

"Because you asked me."

"So did Angel, or so he says. But you wouldn't tell
him. So why tell me?"

"I wanted you to let me out of here."

He shook his head, "You wanted me to know. You wanted
me to feel what you felt, to know what the pain that
drove you away cost you. Because of all the people
that it matters to, I'm the one you WANT it to matter
to."

"No. I only wanted you out--"

"You wanted me in. It does matter to you, Willow. It
matters that I love you. It matters that I know how
you've hurt."

"Stop it," she demanded.

"I love you, Willow."

"I don't care!" she hissed.

"You do. You care. You know you--"

Her hand lashed out, slapping him hard across the
face, and she gasped as she let her arm fall away.
Spike held an unneeded breath as the tears welled up
in her eyes. Willow backed away from him until the
wall stopped her retreat, and she sank to the floor as
hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Immediately, he was
at her side, sliding down next to her and holding her
tightly against him.

"I don't care. I don't care," she chanted softly
through her sobs, balling the hands that rested
against his chest into tight fists.

He shushed her quietly, brushing his lips softly
against her wet cheek as he rocked her trembling body
in his arms.
****
Part 11:
Spike held Willow until her tears subsided, and her
body gave into the mental and physical exertion it had
been subjected to. Not wanting to relinquish the sweet
warmth of her in his arms, he continued to stroke her
hair, whispering softly to her until, with one soft
shuddering breath, her eyes closed in sleep.

Carefully, he lifted her and carried her to the bed,
flicking back the covers and laying her gently down.
He pulled the blanket up close to her chin and placed
a soft kiss on her forehead. He watched her for
several silent minutes before tracing her jawline with
a finger and turning to leave the room.
***
"Hey," Angel smiled softly as Spike came into the
kitchen and hitched his body up onto the counter.

"I don't suppose you've got any vodka tucked inside
that cooler?" the blonde vampire asked with a wry
grin.

"Well," his sire responded, opening a bottom cupboard
and pulling out a bottle of Irish Whiskey,
"Compliments of Doyle."

"It'll do," Spike nodded, taking the bottle and
opening it.

"How did it go up there?" Angel asked.

"I don't know, really," he answered and took a long
swallow. "What does breaking down in shuddering sobs
sound like to you?"

"You, or her?" the dark vampire asked.

Spike grinned, but the look of amusement passed as
quickly as it came, "I don't know what I've done to
her, Angel. I may have pushed too hard."

He shook his head in disbelief, "From you, of all
people."

"Bloody insane, isn't it?" Spike agreed. "Where is
your sidekick and his bosomy-buddy, anyway?"

"He took her out for pizza."

"Still get sick of the sight of you brooding, do
they?" Spike teased.

"You're one to talk."

His childe shrugged, "Like father, like--"

"Yeah, I hear you," Angel smiled. "Really broke down,
did she?"

"Damn near tore my useless heart out," Spike nodded.
"What's going to happen when she wakes up?"

"Damn, I knew I'd forgotten something," he answered.
"I left my crystal ball back in L.A."

"Angel--"

"I'm sorry," he placed a hand on Spike's shoulder. "I
wish I could tell you. We can always hope she'll be
back to her old self."

"But you don't think so."

"I think she's invested too much time and energy in
holding you off to give up so easily."

"Easily?" Spike repeated. "Bloody hell. I'd hate to
see hard."

"Brace yourself, then," his sire warned him. "Because
that's probably just what you're going to see."

"You know what I'd like?"

"To crawl into bed next to Willow?"

"Well, there's that," Spike grinned.

"Tell me."

"I'd like, just once, for you to be wrong."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Angel
quipped. "I'm right about one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"She needs you, Spike."

He took another long pull from the bottle of whiskey,
"Not half as bloody much as I need her."
***
Willow slept soundly for several hours while Spike
hovered close to her and shored up his mental reserves
for what he feared may lie ahead. At the first sign of
stirring from the large bed, he dashed downstairs to
fix her something to eat.

When he returned, carrying a cup of coffee and a plate
of toast, she was sitting up in bed, pillows propped
against the headboard, staring mutely across the room.
Spike placed the toast on the nightstand and handed
her the cup. Without returning his concerned gaze, she
took several sips of the hot liquid. He took the cup
from her and pushed the plate into her hands.

"Finish this, luv, and then maybe you'd like to take a
shower?" he suggested softly.

She followed his instructions without responding, and
when she finished, he took her hand and pulled her out
of the bed.

"Doyle brought some fresh towels," he told her,
stopping beside the dresser to pull out a clean pair
of sweats. "Take all the time you want, pet. I won't
disturb you."

He closed the bathroom door after her and waited until
he heard the water turn on before sinking into the
armchair to wait for her.

Willow stepped under the soothing spray of warm water
and let it flow down over her face as she shampooed
her hair. Her hands trembled as she reached for the
soap and lathered her body, but she bit back the urge
to cry as she rinsed herself off and turned off the
tap. Reaching for a towel as she stepped out of the
tub, she dried herself off before pulling on the
sweatpants and what was obviously one of Spike's
t-shirts. She paused in front of the mirror to pull a
brush through her wet hair. Staring back at her
reflection, she let the brush fall to the floor and
raised her hand to touch the image looking back out at
her.

Her mind railed against the weakness that had betrayed
her out in the bedroom several hours ago. Months of
steeling herself against all of the pain that had
shattered her heart had been obliterated in the tears
she had wept. Betrayal, the word echoed in her
thoughts, and this time she had done it to herself.
Willow hated the part of her that had relished the
feel of the blonde vampire's strong arms around her,
his soft, reassuring voice whispering close to her
ear.

"Words," the mocking eyes in the mirror seemed to
whisper back to her. "His words, your words. You let
them get to you. Words have always been your undoing,
fool. You never did know when to keep your mouth
shut."

Willow stooped down and retrieved the hairbrush from
where it had fallen at her feet. Angrily, she yanked
it through the wet knots in her hair. She shoved the
coppery strands behind her ears and threw the brush
down on the counter.

Glaring back at her reflection, she hissed to herself,
"No more words."
*****
Part 12:
Spike had been trying to get Willow to speak to him
since she had emerged from the shower. He had cajoled,
pleaded, joked, goaded, but she had remained
stubbornly silent. Her face displayed more emotion
than he had seen in days, but she refused to utter so
much as a syllable in response to him.

The vampire was floored by the redhead's renewed
distance after having held her weeping body so
recently. He would have liked to have taken her by the
shoulders and rattled the words out of her still lips,
and it frustrated him beyond bearing that he was
powerless to do so. He could feel the rage building
inside him as she stared at him with a defiant grin on
her lips.

"What the hell is it going to take to get through to
you?" he asked hotly as he turned to look at her. "I
know what you want, Willow. You want me to let you out
of this room, to let you escape into your own isolated
world and just walk away from you. I'm not going to do
that. I'm going to stay in your face and force you to
listen until you scream."

Her eyes flickered up to him at the sharp tone in his
voice, and he went to the bed and leaned down close to
her.

"Angel warned me about you, you know. He told me to
expect you to crawl right back inside yourself. Well,
sweetheart, I'm crawling right in after you. Why are
you so bloody afraid to talk to me, pet? What is it
you're afraid you're going to say? You can't shut me
out, Willow. I won't let you. Talk to me, damn it!"

She opened her mouth to speak and promptly shut it
again.

"Come on, Willow. Say it," he demanded.

She took a breath and nodded once, "I've said
everything that needed to be said. I'm not going to
talk about this--or anything else--with you, anymore."

"Obviously you *haven't* said everything you need to,"
he argued. "I listened to you. I understood what you
told me. So, why close up on me now? You know I'll
listen. All I want is to help you, pet."

"I don't need your help," she stated and scooted
across the bed and leaned back against the pillows,
stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing
her arms over her chest.

He stared at her for a long minute before she grabbed
up the magazine lying on the nightstand and began to
thumb through its pages. Spike drew back and stood up.
He walked to the door and looked back over at her.

"I got through to you once, luv. I'll do it again," he
promised her quietly before leaving the room. "Or had
you forgotten how I love a good challenge?"

As he closed the door, her fingers curled around the
pages of the magazine, and she tossed it angrily
across the bed.
***
"Well?" Cordy questioned as Spike entered the living
room.

He growled and flung himself down onto the tattered
sofa that Doyle had somehow managed to drag over from
beside the Salvation Army bin in the supermarket
parking lot.

"She's decided she isn't going to talk to me,
anymore," he explained. "She told me she's said
everything she needed to say, and then she went quiet
on me."

Angel looked over at him from the fireplace.

"You know, I'm beginning to wonder if the chit's
really worth all the bother," Doyle admitted. "I mean,
sure, she's a looker, but--"

He decided to keep the rest of that thought to himself
as Spike and Angel glared threateningly at him.

"So, how is he supposed to badger anything out of
Willow if she's decided to totally shut up?" Cordelia
asked Angel.

"Maybe there's nothing left to badger out of her," he
answered.

Spike's blue eyes swam with pain as he looked at his
sire, "Angel, I can't--"

"No," the dark vampire smiled softly. "I'm not
suggesting that you should give up. I'm just
suggesting that maybe she meant exactly what she
said."

Spike closed his eyes and dragged his hands through
his hair, and his sire walked over and knelt in front
of him, pulling Spike's hands down and holding them
between his own.

"You know, it wasn't so long ago I wouldn't have
thought you were capable of so much patience," his
sire spoke quietly.

"I love her," Spike whispered, a note of raw sadness
edging his words. "Angel, she won't even speak to me,
now."

"I know," he gave his childe's hands a gentle squeeze.
"But think about it for a minute, Spike. Maybe she
really doesn't have any more to say. From the sounds
of what went on up their earlier, she's already told
you more than she ever intended. You got what you
needed from her. She told you exactly what she's
afraid of, why she's so determined not to let you--or
anyone else--back in. She has to be beating herself up
over that mistake. She's told you everything she
didn't want you to know. All she can do now is repeat
it, and she's going to make sure that doesn't happen."

"But if she won't talk to me, how am I going to
convince her that all I want is to make everything
okay again?" Spike asked.

"_She_ doesn't have to talk to make that happen. You
do."

"I've been trying to, for days."

"But you've got ammunition, now. She's more vulnerable
now than she's been since you brought her home. She
laid every last one of her fears at your feet. She
can't hide behind that wall anymore because you've
already seen all the way through it, and her silence
doesn't change that."

Spike's eyes were staring intently into his sire's,
grabbing hold of every soft word that he spoke.

"Up until this point, you've been prodding her, trying
to get her to tell you what she needs to make things
all right again. She's told you Spike, though she
didn't mean to. Now, use it. Make her understand that
you can give her what she needs."

The blonde vampire nodded and gave him a crooked grin,
"Why is it you can make sense of all of this, and I
can't?"

"Because you're standing in the middle of it. And it
hurts."

Angel drew away as Spike stood up and went to the
stairs.

"Amazing," Doyle murmured as the dark vampire moved to
his side. "When you're done untying the tangle of a
brain that we know as Willow, could you maybe have a
go at Cordy for me?"

"My mind isn't a tangle!" the brunette protested
defensively.

"Damn straight," Angel agreed as he headed back to the
living room. "It's soup."

Doyle's snort ended in a loud grunt as Cordelia
smacked him in the chest.
*****
Part 13:
Willow had wriggled under the covers by the time Spike
returned to the bedroom. He leaned against the door
and smiled over at her.

"Want anything?" he offered.

She shook her head, and her wary eyes trailed him as
he moved slowly over to her and perched on the edge of
the bed.

"You must be done in, luv. You've had one hell of a
day," he spoke so softly the redhead wasn't sure
whether he was talking to her or to himself.

His eyes lingered on hers as he brushed his fingers
through her hair in slow, easy strokes.

"You know what I think you need?" he asked quietly.

She waited silently for him to continue.

"You need to not hurt anymore," he paused, but his
fingers continued their soothing movement through her
fiery locks as her eyes studied his. "I guess that
isn't very realistic, is it? You could build yourself
a wall five miles high, and pain would still find a
way to creep over the top. I proved that today, didn't
I, pet? Just like I did all those months ago. I'm
sorry you've been hurt so badly that you don't want to
feel anymore. The problem with that kind of numbness
is that it masks more than just the pain. It masks all
the other feelings, as well--happiness, desire, love."

Her eyelids were growing heavy under his gentle touch
and his soft words, and she struggled to keep from
giving herself over to sleep.

He smiled down at her, "Go to sleep, luv. It's all
right. I'm not leaving you. I had no intention of
leaving you before, no matter what the slayer might
have said."

Spike stopped speaking as sleep finally won out, and
Willow's eyes closed. Rising, he pulled off his boots
and walked around the bed and laid down beside her,
turning onto his side to watch her sleep. He reached
over to caress the soft skin of her cheek and she
nuzzled, unknowingly, into his cool touch.
***
Willow sat on the edge of the bed, absent-mindedly
running a brush through her hair. Spike's attentions
had changed so drastically, she couldn't make sense of
his actions. She had awakened when he had entered the
bedroom, carrying a tray of food for her. She had
expected him to carry on with the same insistent
discourse he had been subjecting her to since he had
brought her here. But he had been in the room with her
for over two hours, and he had yet to speak more than
a few words to her.

She stole a quick look over at the blonde vampire who
was sitting in the armchair. The smile he flashed back
at her was missed by its target as her eyes darted
away from him once again. Spike pushed himself up and
walked slowly toward the bed.

"I've been thinking, pet," he said softly. "You want
out of here, right?"

She nodded, and she set aside the hairbrush, her brow
furrowing as she wondered where he was headed.

"Well, I'll make a deal with you," he continued as he
shoved his hand into one of his pockets and pulled out
the key to the bedroom door.

He dropped down beside her, turning the key over in
his fingers before reaching for her hand, placing it
in her open palm, and curling her fingers around it.
Her mouth dropped open as she stared up at him.

"Like I said, I've been thinking," he repeated,
grinning slightly. "You say you want me out of your
life. I don't believe that. And I don't think you do,
either. See, pet, I'm not the one who betrayed you,
not really. I was played just like you were. And I'll
tell you something else. I ended up hurting as much as
you did. But I think you already know that, if you
could look past all the pain and anger long enough to
see it."

He stood up and took a couple of steps away from her,
waving is arm toward the door, "You think I'm not
hearing you, that I'm trying to keep you from deciding
for yourself what it is that you want. So, there's
your ticket to freedom, luv. Or your version of
freedom, pathetic and lonely as it may be."

She rose from the bed, fully expecting him to stop her
as she moved toward the door. When he didn't, she
turned around to face him again.

"You're letting me go? Just like that?"

He smiled at the sound of her words, "I'll never let
you go. I love you, Willow. What I'd really like would
be for you to agree to stay here--just one more
week--willingly. Maybe you can't do that. Maybe your
pride or your fear or--whatever--won't let you. You
can walk away, right now, if that's what you want. But
you'll never get rid of me. I'll be the thought that
keeps you awake at night. I'll be the dream that
brings you sobbing out of a sound sleep. I'll be that
ache inside you that never dies. But I'll never be
gone. And you know it."

She lowered her gaze to the floor, and he took her
chin in his hand and turned her eyes back to him.

"I guess we'll be even, though, because you'll be all
those things to me, too. I know you've been hurt, and
I know I'm partly to blame because I let myself get
dragged into the slayer's brainless plot. But I didn't
betray you. I loved you, just as I told you I did that
night you came with me to my place. All I want is one
more week to try to make you understand that."

"Why here?" she asked.

"Because the slayer and the git will try to interfere
if they know you've been given your freedom. I want
the chance to work this out with you--just us--with no
nasty little barbs being whispered in your ear by the
people who _really_ betrayed you. You can walk out of
here right now, or anytime during the next week. But I
don't think that's what you really want to do. I don't
believe you want to lose me any more than I want to
lose you. And if you're honest with yourself, you know
that I'm right."

A flicker of scared desperation flashed over her face,
and he took her arms and stepped closer to her.

"I want one week of total honesty between the two of
us, no matter how painful that honesty is. Can you do
that, Willow? Can you be that honest with me, with
yourself?"

"I don't know," she admitted softly.

He rested his palm against her soft cheek, "Will you
try? Knowing that you can walk away anytime--I won't
try to stop you--will you just try?"

Spike studied her eyes as she struggled within herself
to find the strength to do what he asked her to do.
The very idea of allowing herself to be so open with
him frightened her witless, and she wasn't at all sure
that she could do as he'd requested. The defiant side
of her that she had cultivated for months told her
that to refuse him would be to admit weakness. At the
same time, a very small part of her, a part she had
been willfully ignoring for just as long, cried out
ever so weakly to be heard.

Her eyes refocused themselves on the vampire in front
of her, and the knot in the Spike's stomach freed
itself with a twinge of relief as she nodded slightly
and whispered, "I'll try."
******
Cordelia jumped up off the sofa as a loud
unintelligible shout drifted down from the upstairs
bedroom.

"Well, that's a good sign," Angel smiled.

"Good?" Cordy asked. "Good for what? Waking every
demon on the hellmouth?"

"Spike must be getting something out of Willow," the
vampire chuckled softly.

"And I have the feeling that even if the little red
haired vixen managed to wake every demon on the
Hellmouth, they'd take one look at her angry face and
scurry right back to hell," Doyle added. "Anybody for
taking a quiet trip up the stairs and having a wee
listen at the keyhole?"

"Anybody for being the first wee demon to scurry right
back to hell--minus two ears?" Cordelia replied dryly.

He winked at Angel, "That's her subtle way of saying
she'd miss me."

The beautiful brunette rolled her eyes, "Suddenly, I
understand Willow's need to scream."
***
Spike was enveloped in the fiery anger that lapped out
with Willow's words, and he was loving every second of
it.

"What the hell are you smirking about?" Willow
demanded.

He laughed softly, "I did say I wanted honesty, didn't
I?"

"I don't get you," she fumed. "Why didn't you just
tell Buffy to go to hell? So what if she threatened to
cut off your supply of blood? I'd have gotten it for
you!"

"Luv, at that point in time, you wouldn't have blinked
an eye without asking the bloody slayer which eye it
should be. Anyway, when the whole thing started, I
didn't really care how you'd feel about it."

Her anger abated with a burst of air at his frank
admission, "Oh."

"I said 'when the whole thing started,' Willow," he
repeated. "By the time I did care, I wasn't spending
time with you to get my daily blood-in-a-mug. I just
wanted to be with you."

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Because I was in love with you. Fortunately, she and
the git were both too daft to see it."

"You never said--"

"How could I? You were hurting over the wolf. He was
all you talked about. I didn't realize you'd started
to care about me--not like that, anyway. When you came
back to my place, I never expected to hear you say you
loved me."

"I guess that makes you as daft as Buffy and Xander,"
she suggested with a slow smile.

"Bite your tongue, pet," he grimaced. "You walked into
the Bronze at the worst possible moment. You thought
everything I'd told you that night was a lie. It
wasn't. I meant it then. I mean it now. I love you."

She shook her head sadly, "You don't know how much a
part of me wants to believe that."

"I think I do," he responded. "So, why can't you?"

"Because I can't afford to be wrong. I couldn't
survive going through what I went through with Oz
again," she answered. "He left me because I didn't
deserve him. Why should I believe that you--"

"That's bullshit, luv," the vampire interrupted, as he
moved over to her pushed her down onto the armchair.
"The wolf left you because HE didn't deserve YOU, and
he knew it. I don't give a bloody damn whether I
deserve you or not. I love you. I want you. I'm not
leaving you. But you already know that, don't you?"

She looked up at him in a mixture of confusion and
anger, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are
you accusing me of lying? You wanted honesty. That's
exactly what I'm giving you."

"You've been running from honesty for so long, you
wouldn't recognize it if you ran face-first into it,"
he told her. "You're the one who took off, luv, not
me. You were gone for months. Maybe you never intended
to come back, but you knew I was here. You knew, no
matter how far away from Sunnyhell you were, I was
right here. If you were so angry or upset or whatever,
why the hell didn't you tell ME to leave?"

"I've said it a couple of hundred times since," she
reminded him angrily.

"You've asked me to leave you alone. You've asked me
to let you go. But you've never asked me to leave
town. I literally handed you the key out of Sunnyhell,
and you're still here," he leaned down closer to her.
"Why is that, pet?"

Willow's eyes shifted uncomfortably away from him.

"You know why, don't you? Because gone--really
gone--it NOT where you want me. You love me, and you
can't get around it," he placed his fingers on her
cheek and drew her eyes back to him. "As hard as
you've fought it, I've gotten through to you, Willow.
And you haven't stopped breathing. You haven't
crumbled into non-existence. Do you like being close
to me again?"

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came forth. He
smiled and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I know you do. You think needing me makes you weak.
You think I'll lose interest and really leave you,
eventually," he continued. "But you're wrong, pet.
You're strong enough to survive the only broken heart
you're ever going to experience. You're strong enough
to keep my desire for eternity. I won't leave you,
Willow."

He could see her struggling to accept what he said,
and he drew back and stood up, his eyes mirroring the
challenge implicit in his words, "You're a coward,
pet. You're too scared to take what you want, so you
pretend to everyone--including yourself--that you
don't want it."

She pushed herself out of the chair, her eyes burning
with anger, and flung herself at him, slamming his
body back against the wall.

His hands moved to her waist as he steadied himself,
and he repeated the maddening word, "Cow--"

Her lips stopped his as she grabbed his head and
yanked it down to hers. Spike pulled her close to him,
wrapping his arms around her as she ravaged his mouth
angrily.

She pulled away, breathing heavily, and hissed, "I'm
not a coward!"

"No? Then admit that you want me," he dared her with a
smug grin.

"I--" she stopped and looked up into his intense blue
eyes.

He had twisted every thought she had spent months
carefully weaving in her mind until she couldn't find
a way to untangle them quickly enough.

"Okay. Then tell me a lie, if that's easier," he
offered. "Tell me you want me out of your life,
forever."

"I--I can't think," she stammered, trying to turn away
from him.

"Who the bloody hell said anything about thinking?" he
asked, yanking her back to him. "You think too damned
much."

He crushed his mouth to hers and drew her body flush
against his, teasing her lips until they had no choice
but to respond. He felt her arms slowly snaking around
his neck, and he leaned back against the wall, pulling
her with him, and deepened the kiss.
***
"It's gone awfully quiet up there," Cordy fretted.

Angel paused in his reading only long enough to nod.

"Well, aren't you worried?" she asked.

"Not really."

"Maybe they've killed each other!"

"Not likely," he answered.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Spike can't kill," Doyle reminded her.

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, her concern only slightly
alleviated as she walked toward the entryway and
peered up the stairs. "Still--"

"It's gone awfully quiet up there," Doyle echoed and
looked over at Angel. "Too quiet."

"But not deathly quiet," the vampire assured him.

"Then what is it?" he asked.

"Lip-lock," Angel grinned.
*****
Willow pushed herself away from the heated kiss and
stepped back from Spike. He resisted the urge to pull
her back to him as she moved toward the door.

"What do you want, Willow?" he asked.

She looked back at him, "Out of here."

Momentarily stunned by her answer, he simply stared
after her as she walked out of the room.  He shook
himself and took off after her as she made her way
down the stairs. The brief surge of panic that twisted
his stomach ebbed as the redhead turned, not toward
the door, but toward the living room. He caught up
with her as she stopped and looked over at Angel.

"Hello," he said softly, rising from the sofa.

She nodded, and her body stiffened slightly as Spike's
hand met her shoulder, but she did not step away from
his touch.

"How are you, Willow?" Angel asked.

"I'm fine," she repeated mechanically.

Spike shot his sire an apprehensive look as she moved
away from him, and Angel gave him a small smile and
shook his head.

"I guess I should thank you for my comfortable
prison," Willow said. "Since you seem to be the one
responsible for it."

"You are your own prison," he told her softly.

"You seem to think you know a lot about me, for
someone who's been gone longer than I have," she
remarked.

"I know a lot about pain and the lengths one will go
to in order to escape it."

She nodded in concession, "I suppose you do."

"Looks like you're free, now, though," he continued,
piercing her with his eyes. "Or are you?"

She shrugged and walked to the fireplace, turning her
back to its flames, "Spike says I'm a coward."

"What do you say?" he asked her.

"When I was four years old, I placed a finger on the
orange coil of a stove burner to see if it was hot. I
never did it again."

"Did your mum kiss it and make it better?" Spike asked
knowingly.

The subtle insight flustered Willow, and her gaze fell
away from the two vampires.

"I need to find a place to stay," she changed the
subject.

"Why not stay here?" Angel offered.

"Because I need a place where I can be alone."

"You've been alone--too much, Willow," Spike said.

"I haven't been alone enough for the past week," she
shot back. "I need a place that's just mine. A place
where you can't talk circles around sense and play
with my thoughts until even I can't understand them."

"I haven't said anything that hasn't been the truth,
no matter how badly you'd like to deny it," he
insisted.

"I didn't deny it up there, did I?" she responded. "I
am a coward. I admit it. I'm scared to death--"

"Why?" Angel asked.

She kept her eyes on the blonde vampire as she
answered, "Because maybe I believe everything you've
told me. Maybe I do want to be with you, but maybe I'm
too scared to open myself up like that again. Spike,
you know what it feels like to have the one person who
meant everything to you walk out of your life."

"Yes, I do," he agreed. "But I also know what it feels
like to realize that person doesn't mean everything to
you, anymore. I was always second-choice to Drusilla
because she wasn't the one who was meant to be with
me. It took playing the lab rat, having my brains
fried, and falling in love with you to make me
understand that. Willow, you don't love Oz. You
wouldn't have slept with me if you did. You wouldn't
have told me you love me."

She turned away from him as images of that night
flooded her memory, "But it still hurts, the way he
left, the way Buffy and Xander--"

"So you move past it, luv. You get to the point where
it doesn't hurt, anymore."

"But I haven't gotten there, yet," she told him, her
voice quivering slightly.

Angel laid a hand on her shoulder, "Yes, you did,
Willow. You'd moved past it when you admitted to Spike
how you felt about him before you found out what Buffy
had done."

"But that whole thing turned out to be a lie," she
said.

"Spike didn't lie to you, did he?" he asked gently.
"Buffy knew he couldn't refuse to go along with her
plan, but falling in love with you wasn't a betrayal."

She looked around at the blonde vampire, "I--"

"Angel?" Buffy's voice called out from the door. "How
is--Willow! You're--you've been--"

"Paroled," Willow nodded.

"Oh, Will!" Buffy breathed and threw her arms around
her friend.

"Don't," the redhead ordered and pushed the slayer
away from her.

A flicker of a grin passed over Angel's face as the
redhead took an unconscious step closer to Spike.

"You're still angry," Buffy said.

"Angry? Try mad as hell," Willow answered, and Spike
jumped slightly as he felt her pressing her hand into
his.

"I never meant to hurt you," the slayer told her.

"Meaning..." Willow paused and looked down as she
realized where she had placed her hand.

Spike arched an eyebrow as she looked up at him, and
he tightened his grip as she tried to pull her hand
out of his, "What the hell, pet, leave it there."

Angel chuckled softly as a flicker of petulance passed
over her face, and he bit his lip to keep from
laughing out loud when she did, indeed, leave her hand
in his, as he had suggested. Willow ignored the look
of amusement that passed between sire and childe and
turned her gaze back to Buffy.

"Meaning that you never meant for me to find out."

"Come on, Will. You know how much I love you. You know
we were only trying to help you. You can't believe I
hurt you intentionally," Buffy replied.

"No, I suppose you didn't" Willow allowed. "But it
hurt, all the same. And considering the way you went
about it, I'd say you were trying to 'help'
yourselves, not me."

"That isn't true--"

"Isn't it? Then why did you choose deception? Why the
plot to get Spike to distract me? You were tired of
hearing me whine about Oz. I can understand that. I
know I must have driven you all crazy, the way I went
on and on about it. It would have been much kinder, in
the long run, to have just told me to shut up. It
wouldn't have hurt half as much as the little game you
dreamed up."

"You're right," Buffy said softly.

"I would have--what did you say?"

"You're right," the slayer repeated sadly. "I hurt you
as badly as Oz did, didn't I? And pretty much in the
same way. If you hadn't overheard us, that night in
the Bronze, you wouldn't ever have felt betrayed by
us. But that still wouldn't have made it right."

Willow stood in silence, the argument having been
knocked out of her.

"In fact," Buffy continued, "the only person who
didn't hurt you was Spike. Which is proof positive
that I really screwed up. Forgive me, Willow?"

"She doesn't mean that, pet," Spike said.

Buffy glared at him, "Yes, I do!"

"You can't," he shook his head and grinned slyly at
her. "If Willow forgives you, she's certainly going to
have to forgive me, and you don't want that, do you?"

"Hell, no!"

"See?" Spike looked down at Willow. "She doesn't want
you to forgive."

"I do...I mean, I don't...I mean...you moron!" the
slayer spat at Spike. "Willow! I--"

The redhead raised her free hand in a gesture of
silence and looked from Spike to Angel to Buffy. She
tugged her other hand free and stepped away from the
blonde vampire.

"I need some air," she mumbled and headed quickly for
the door.

Spike shot a frantic look at his sire, "Angel--"

"Go," he told him and reached out to grab Buffy's arm
as she turned to follow after his childe. "You, stay."

"But--"

"Stay!" he demanded and shoved her onto the sofa.

******
"I said I was going to get some air, not run off,"
Willow spoke as Spike bolted out of the house and
looked frantically around for her.

Calming himself, the vampire walked around the
long-dead tree in the weedy yard. Willow's back was
leaned against the wrinkled bark of the tree, it's
bare branches creating tendril-like shadows in the
bright moonlight.

"There's no point in it, anyway, is there?" she asked
softly.

"In what?" he responded, his eyes searching hers.

"Running off," she answered. "This feeling would just
pick up and go along for the ride."

Spike rested his hand against the trunk of the tree,
very near her head, and moved closer to her, so close
their bodies were separated by only the smallest of
spaces, "What feeling is that, pet?"

"The feeling that I have to make a decision, and I
don't know how," she looked up into the steely eyes
that were watching her intently. "This wall you've
been trying so hard to tear down--I think I've run
smack into it, and I don't know how to get around it."

"Willow, that wall is of your own making. Just step
clear of it," he told her.

"Sounds easy," she smiled softly. "It isn't. I'm
scared, Spike."

"I know," he nodded.

"I really think what I need is for you to give me some
time alone to think things through without you
hovering over me or getting in my face. Will you do
that?"

"No," the response was immediate.

"No?" she repeated incredulously. "NO??"

He chuckled at the familiar fire that swept through
her, "I know what you're doing. You want time to go
hunt up a few more bricks and lay on some fresh
mortar. Forget it, sweetheart."

"Spike! I--"

"No," he said firmly and wrapped an arm around her,
pulling her body fully against his.

His mouth devoured hers, and he parted her lips with
his tongue and explored her mouth with gentle
slowness. When he pulled away, she was slightly
breathless, and her face was flushed with a delicate
glow.

"Tell me you love me," he whispered coaxingly.

She gnawed nervously on her lip, and her eyes
glistened with tears as she stared up at him.

"Don't you see, pet? If it's oblivion you're seeking,
you won't find it behind that damned wall. It's here,
between us. We're all that matters, Willow. Not the
pain, not the fear, not the feelings of betrayal. Just
us. I can be the oblivion you're craving. Just tell me
you love me."

Willow clutched at his arms and squeezed her eyes
shut, and in that brief moment before she opened them
again, Spike fancied he could see her literally
shoving aside the fear that had taunted the little
redhead for months.

Her eyes returned to his, holding them steadily, as
she spoke softly, "I love you, Spike."

Spike groaned and lowered his mouth to catch the
single tear that trickled down her cheek before taking
her lips in a fiery kiss.

From their darkened perch on the crumbling stone steps
across the lawn, Cordelia cupped her chin in her hands
and leaned against Doyle's shoulder.

"It's about time," she murmured happily. "Gods, she
was running Angel a close second in the self-denial
department."

Doyle shook his head, "Well, she's out of the running,
now. Angel never ends up with his lips pasted to
someone else's, does he?"

"Not as far as I know. Unless there's something you'd
like to tell me," she answered with a devilish grin.

"What's that supposed to--HEY!" he protested loudly.

She laughed and gave his knee a tight squeeze before
leaping onto her feet and making a quick dash for the
mansion.
*****